Violet Dreams
by shirogane777
Summary: Kaiba discovers that people remain in the places they loved long after they're gone.


The warmth of the summer evening was thick and tinged with humidity, but didn't deter Kaiba from his mission. It had been three days since he'd begun plans on relaunching Duelist Kingdom, and the anticipation was building to a fever pitch inside him. It was the greatest marketing plan in the history of his company, if he did say so himself. After Pegasus's death, it had been obvious that the only thing to do was absorb Industrial Illusions into his Mega-Corporation. But celebrating it with a tournament (and hence symbolically crowning himself King of Games) had been a stroke of genius that had even surprised himself.

From a distance, the island was just a mild spot of green surrounded by fog. It was only on closer inspection that one could see just how long it had really been since Duelist Kingdom. The dueling platforms (so outdated) had all but been absorbed by the local vegetation. Knarled branches and constant surf had beaten them to unrecognizable hunks of metal and plastic. These would be uprooted and demolished as a matter of course. From the view his jet afforded him, all of it seemed small and unimportant, not to be eclipsed by the grand spectacle that would take place here not a year from now. A slow smirk stole across his features.

There was a certain pleasure in landing his dragon jet in the plaza where he and Yugi had once dueled. The view that the castle afforded him might be called majestic. The land stretched out in every direction, but instead of dense trees and brown grass, he could only where things were going to be bulldozed and rebuilt. _Though perhaps_, he thought, turning towards the castle's entrance, _this should be my first order of business_.

If he'd been a nostalgic sort of person, he might perhaps have been a little put off by the dilapidation. Instead, it only strengthened his resolve to improve it as quickly as possible. The castle itself was covered in moss, and a few prominent cracks in the stone made the formerly grand mansion seem a couple centuries older than it was. Even the castle's steps were in obvious disrepair. Large chunks of stone had crumbled and whole steps had been overtaken by trees. But that did not compare to the inside. Cobwebs dusted every available corner of the mansion. Everything had been left unattended. Wooden furniture was scattered around the various rooms in varying stages of decomposition.

The castle had more stairs than he cared to remember and every single railing was culminated in those disgusting horse heads. Kaiba only had flashes of memory of it from the last time he'd been here, but a certain set of stairs definitely led to the dungeons.

He neglected to explore further in that direction.

The next staircase led him down to a familiar arena and he stopped. The dueling platform loomed ahead of him, cold and deserted. A thick layer of dust had settled on the controls, but otherwise it appeared as though it was in perfect working order. There was no harm in taking a look, right? It appeared stable enough, though a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that on either side of the path, there was nothing but empty space that ended at who knew what depth. His steps echoed loudly as he made his way to the platform, leaving faint traces in the dusty floor.

Who had dueled here last, he wondered, Yugi or Pegasus? Perhaps a few of his cards might still remain here. He hoisted himself unsteadily onto the duelist's stand, grabbing onto the rusty railings. To his disappointment, there were no cards, although there were the remains of a rather broken chess set.

He frowned as he examined the game. It was a rather expensive set, from the looks of it, just exquisitely blown glass pieces now crumbling into fragments. His player had played white, no doubt. White's king had been tipped over, and the carnage of the previous battle had left various pieces scattered over the dueling platform. His frown grew deeper. The queens were missing. Perhaps they'd fallen into the abyss below, he thought, eyeing the menacing chasm beside him. Out of curiosity, he picked up the white's knight, studying the intricate curves of the glass piece. Surely they'd been custom-made, but what was the point of an expensive chess set if you didn't even know how to play the game properly. A moment passed, and he realized that the bizarre shapes along the side of the horse's head were _wings._

It slipped from his fingers, chimed once against the surface of the platform and rolled headlong into the chasm. Its brothers and sisters soon followed, along with the board. Blood streamed from his hands, and he spent the next minute picking the shards of glass from his skin.

A secret sense of triumph had risen inside of him; he resolved to spend the night there, a king in his castle. He elected Pegasus's room of course, as the only one properly befitting him. Now as he lay on the ancient, flea-ridden four poster bed, he found himself questioning the sanity of that decision.

"Looks like I won this time, old man," he muttered, turning over uncomfortably. There wasn't the slightest whisper of a breeze; the windows no longer opened. Sweat had pasted his shirt to his stomach and back, and he tugged it free as he looked around. Most of the various artifacts of the room had all been removed, and he himself had assured that there wasn't a speck of dust to be found. But the room was now so empty, bare walls marred by peeling paint and square stains where paintings had been. Cyndia's portrait remained, and only because he'd decided it might have some actual value. He wished he'd thought to draw the curtains over her though. In the half-light, it almost seemed as though those large blue eyes were looking down at him with pity.

_Pity?_ he thought. What was he thinking? It was a perfectly normal picture, albeit one painted by a certifiable psychopath. But that was no matter. Some foreign collector might find it intriguing, and that was all the more reason to hock it off to the first bidder. Kaiba huffed and turned away from it, kicking the heavy comforter further away from his overheated body. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? Who was he trying to prove his superiority to? Pegasus had already been bested in the only way that counted. Death was already a fitting humiliation for someone who'd already treated him in that way, taking his family, putting him in that… place.

He shuddered involuntarily. Some part of him remembered what it had been like in that hellish limbo, but nothing distinct came to mind. Just half-formed echos or muscle memories were all that was left of that time. Mokuba had recovered from it much better, though he'd heard him call out in the night in the weeks that followed Duelist Kingdom. The few times he'd gone to comfort Mokuba, his brother had insisted it was nothing, that everything was fine. Kaiba himself had suffered no nightmares, but something prompted a terrible insomnia. He'd thought he'd gotten over it, but maybe this place stirred up whatever phobias had originally kept him from sleeping.

With a sigh, he turned over again, grateful for the faint breeze.

_Breeze?_ He bolted upright. The curtains were billowing softly. _There must be a crack,_ he rationalized. It was a relief, but he eyed them warily. A fault in structural integrity was worrisome, if only for the additional expense of fixing it. He sighed again, sinking into the lumpy pillows. Perhaps now he might sleep. The breeze was soothing, as though gentle, airy hands were caressing his fevered forehead. It reminded him faintly of his only memory of his mother. He'd been ill, and she'd sat beside him. He remembered the way the bed dipped as she sat down, her cool hands brushing strands of hair away from his forehead, the soft press of lips against his cheek. He could almost feel it.

He did feel it.

"Who's there?" he shouted, jerking out of reach of those ethereal hands. The moonlight illuminated only the far side of the room, but it was enough to see that there was nothing, no one. He turned to the nightstand and groped for the lightswitch, only to remember that they'd yet to turn on the electricity. No. That was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous. There was nothing happening. He was just suffering from some kind of insomnia-induced hallucination. That was significantly more likely than being molested by a ghost.

He scoffed. Ghosts indeed. What the hell was wrong with him? Cyndia's eyes reproached him from the other side of the room. "Shut up," he muttered to her. "I'm not playing your games." The curtains were still moving, albeit slightly less enthusiastically. He really did have to get that fixed.

For the third time, he settled down, on his side this time. Perhaps in a situation less similar, he'd be less likely to have such painful memories crop up in his dreams. His eyes were aching with tiredness, and the pillows seemed much more comforting. Maybe he was dreaming already; he felt the bed dip, but he felt no desire to get up again. He would take the dreams as they came. The breeze resumed its soft caress, and in his ear, he heard a whistling. No. No that was stupid. He was comfortable and safe. There was no one there for miles. That was right. Kaiba tugged the sheets closer around himself.

He was so tired.

.:.

_A soft, mocking laugh._

"_Hello, Kaiba-boy. It's been a while since you were here as my guest. And quite uninvited too! What a pity you should see my lovely abode in such a state. You hardly gave me a moment's notice."_

_The bed dipped again, the sheets rustling gently under the weight. A hand took his shoulder, as though to coax him to turn over, but he resisted. He was so tired, so heavy, so overwhelmed. _

"_Look at me, Kaiba-boy. If you're such a big man now, you should at least be able to look me in the eye. Weren't you going to dance on my grave?" _

_He turned, found himself staring into…_

.:.

Sunlight.

It filtered through the open window, and he felt the sea breeze hit him full force. Beside him, on the bedside table, was a single card.

Kaiba frowned. He'd been sure he'd put his deck up last night, but perhaps he'd been careless. With a huff, he reached for it, meaning to shuffle it back in with the others.

It was blank.


End file.
